


You'll Do - What?

by maryhell



Category: NCIS
Genre: Don't Like Don't Read, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 14:18:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2153712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maryhell/pseuds/maryhell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Tony lay in bed unable to sleep, he thought over everything that happened to him. Gibbs's words 'You'll Do', morphed into 'You'll Do - What?'</p>
            </blockquote>





	You'll Do - What?

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: Here I am with another NCIS story, and again I will be breaking Gibbs’s rule – never assume. It is possible to read this story with no prior knowledge of the series. However, if you haven’t, some threads will not make sense. Therefore, I am assuming the majority will be familiar with the bulk of episodes and character descriptions. I didn’t want to add in the details of those episodes as I wanted to avoid getting sidetracked from the flow of the story. I’ve also messed with timelines, etc – but that’s fiction, huh?
> 
> Also, as much as I like the cast of NCIS as a whole, this story lends itself to a bit of bashing.
> 
> Betaed by the amazing harrytwifan. You are a star darlin. xxx
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own anything remotely related to NCIS or it's characters.

* * *

 

**You'll Do - What?**

 

Tony tossed and turned in his bed, unable to sleep.  He closed his eyes, thumped the pillows several times and tried again, but blessed unconsciousness wouldn’t claim him.  It had been thirty six hours since he’d last rested, which sadly, was a familiar pattern.

He considered, maybe subconsciously, he didn’t want to sleep. If he did, morning would arrive too soon, and Tony wasn’t sure he looked forward to that.  In fact, the prospect made him want the mattress to swallow him whole.

He felt heavy.  Every limb seemed twice its actual weight.

He tried to read.  All the words rolled into one.

He tried watching his beloved 007, yet he couldn’t even keep track of the plot he knew so well.

It was as if there was some bastard out there making him stay in bed and think.  So, think he did.

He thought about his life.  Where it had been, where it was, and where it was going.

What had it gotten him?

In truth…what Tony believed he had was a career he once loved, and a life – if he could call it that – more akin to an Oscar Wilde play with lots of satire, twists and turns; none of which was true.  Oh, the cases were real enough. It was the person who played NCIS agent Anthony DiNozzo that was a farce, and he was tired of the façade.  He was weary of being someone he wasn’t.  But years ago, he’d set up a front that was difficult to shake.

The completely fabricated part of him was the permanently fun-loving frat boy-cum-womanizer, always ready with a quip. It was the part everyone at NCIS saw, believed, and complained about.  They bit at him when it was on show, and they bitched about its disappearance when it wasn’t there.  Yes, there was an entertaining side to Tony, but it was only a small portion of the real man.

It was the story of his life. In actuality, there hadn’t been any wisecracks for a while.  In recent months, there’d been so much of the job to do, there hadn’t been time for witticism.  There again, no one around Tony was in a state of mind to notice.   They were either in mourning, or to too busy surgically removing the remains of his soul.  No one would have believed Tony was desperately unhappy.  After all, his undercover skills were legendary.

When he joined the force, he kept his orientation under wraps.  At the time, it was a necessity, and he was fine with that.  There were places he could go to satisfy his needs.  Then _he_ barreled into his life.  Tony immediately felt the connection between them, and upon said man’s request, followed him to Washington.  Unfortunately, what Tony experienced was a straight as an arrow ex-marine who viewed their union as an extremely well oiled professional partnership.  Not once did he step close to, or give any impression, he’d break his precious rule 12.  That didn’t mean Tony didn’t feel the electricity between them when they were close – but after a while, Tony believed it was his wishful thinking.

As SFA to the second B for Bastard Leroy Jethro Gibbs, he’d been shot, blown up, given an ancient disease, left in a sewer, had his partner Cait’s brains splattered on him, and been sent on countless undercover assignments which left him physically and emotionally drained.

_But he was Anthony DiNozzo, right?  Nothing ever got to him._

He’d taken it all… and for what?  He loved that he helped take dirt-bags off the street and made the world a better place.  Sadly, on a personal level, all he’d received was abuse and a broken heart.  Tony chastised himself for that.

Then there was the stupid stuff Gibbs did.  Not stupid because of the people he was trying to help, but stupid because he insisted on going lone-wolf instead of taking backup.

It was as if the man had a death wish.  Hell, Tony had rescued him from enough near fatal experiences.  The last one… well, the last one, Gibbs almost got his wish when he was blown up on a boat.  The resulting amnesia had the man’s head set firmly in the past with a wife and child, whose untimely deaths he couldn’t move forward from.

Tony’s heart broke for Gibbs and his loss.  He understood what it was like to lose someone you loved, and to relive the memory.  His heart broke even more at the prospect that Gibbs wished he’d died with them. He could identify with that, too.

 _That day_ , what fool’s hope DiNozzo had of something/anything with the man he’d loved since tackling him in that Baltimore street years ago, went up in smoke the moment the detonator activated.

Another slice of Tony’s faith was carved away when Gibbs stood before him in the office, not long after being released from hospital.  “You’ll do.”  That’s all he said.  “You’ll do.”  Before he walked out of the orange walled office, leaving a stunned team in his shadow.

Since then, the way the siblings of the dysfunctional family coped ranged from silence to insubordination.  As papa bear was away, the mice would play.  At least that’s how Ziva, Cait’s once efficient, cold-hearted replacement, and the easily led McGee acted. In their eyes, Tony was promoted to Senior Agent due to tenure, not qualification, much like an older brother who took over the company – hate reined.  They bickered over every order Tony gave, and disregarded a good many of them, leaving caustic remarks in their wake.   They made his life hell. Neither pulled their weight in the quickly demolishing team, which wasn’t fair to the victims or families of the crimes.

Tony wasn’t inefficient; quite the opposite.  He’d been left with a team who would only follow one man – and it wasn’t him.  That left Tony to take up the slack, which he did, day and night, week after week, month after month.

The Grandfather of the group, Dr Mallard, stayed silent, lost in his internal ramblings. Jimmy was so concerned for the man, he stayed dutifully by his side. Neither noticed anyone else.  At least Ducky had some support, which Tony was grateful for. As for Abby, she got through each day as though at a funeral.  Her silver-haired papa was gone, and she grieved.  One thing they all had in common were the constant reminders that Tony was not Gibbs.  Not one person had a second thought for Tony.  As far as they were concerned, he was there to make them feel better, which entailed him being used as the proverbial punching bag.

Gibbs returned for a short while, which gave Tony a modicum of hope.  The kick in the gut there was he returned for Ziva. He handled her mess, then disappeared again, sending Tony into a tailspin of despair.  Again he pulled on his big-boy pants and did his duty.  All the while, it was raining in his heart.  What remained of the love Tony had for the Job waned.  Even Jenny seemed to have her own agenda.  She’d tried on more than one occasion to get Tony involved, but he was savvy enough about the woman to know whatever she was doing was not above board.

Tony was on his own…well, almost.

In Tony’s head, the “You’ll do” morphed into, “You’ll do what?”

Something had to give.  He needed some time away from NCIS to organize the tossed salad of thoughts his head, and rationally decide the direction his future was going to take.  As far as Anthony was concerned, he’d made a FUBAR out of his life.  He’d been a disappointment to his family, hidden his true self, followed a man who would never love him, and donned a persona few saw past the surface of.  It was time for a change, but Tony didn’t know what or how.  One thing he was sure of was… the world would survive without him working in it for a while.  No one was irreplaceable.

He made up his mind to get away which made it time for action.

He didn’t think Director Sheppard would easily let him walk out of the office leaving the MCRT without a leader. Having said that, she’d let Gibbs do it, so why not him? She’d hand the reins to the next schmuck in line, like had been done to him, only they’d probably get a few more encouraging words than “You’ll do”. 

In order to execute his plan to disappear, he needed a favor or two from the people he trusted the most.  They were the unlikely people who had seen the person beyond the frat boy.  Well, maybe a couple of them not so unlikely.  With renewed vigor, five minutes later, Tony had a go bag in hand and a wad of cash he kept for emergencies.  Leaving his car and phone behind, Tony hopped on a bus to Bethesda.

 

 

The moment Brad saw Tony with bag in hand, he knew something was up.  Apart from the fact Tony never visited a medical facility willingly; he didn’t need to be a trained doctor to see his friend was about to keel over from exhaustion.  He’d warned the man about it often in recent months, to the point where Brad was on alert whenever he saw him.

As Brad approached, Tony dropped his back pack and swayed.  The adrenaline which carried him to the hospital had disappeared.  Brad hurried his last two strides and caught Tony as the man’s legs gave way. He was just in time to lower him into a nearby seat before shouting for a gurney.

Several years earlier, when Tony was in the blue room suffering from the plague, Brad gained a healthy respect for the gritty determination of the man under his care.  Tony tried to keep his mask of bravado in place, but the weaker he became, the more it slipped.  Once the kill switch had been activated on the disease and Tony was on the road to recovery, Cait, Tony’s partner at the time, disappeared leaving Tony and Brad alone.  Crime waited for no man.  During the early hours of the morning, the men bonded while reminiscing over their college years.  It paved the way to talk about anything and everything, and their friendship developed. Brad saw beyond the clown persona and got to know the complex individual beneath.

When Tony was eventually discharged, they stayed close, under the radar of prying eyes, circumventing doctor/patient regulations.  Brad was one of the few who’d seen Tony at his lowest, and was a person he could talk to about his health fears as well as other problems.  As Brad was effectually an outsider to the job, he often gave a different perspective to situations.

“Come on my friend, let’s get you somewhere more private, then you can tell me what’s going on.”

Tony refused wheelchair transfer from cubicle to room.  So with the aid of a nurse, Brad held on tightly to Tony’s waist for the slow walk while the nurse dealt with his belongings.  Brad gave Tony a thorough examination, during which he made note of the dark circles under his eyes, the pallor of his skin, and the heavy way the man held himself.  Other than total exhaustion, he could see no other injuries.

When all was quiet, Brad prompted his friend to spill the beans.

“Sorry, Brad, to come here. You were the first person I thought of.”

 “No problem. How can I help?”

“Any chance I can stay at your place for a day or two till I get myself organized?”

Brad was glad Tony felt he could come to him with such a request.  “You can stay with me anytime, you know that.  I take it you wanna get out of the stewpot for a while.” Tony nodded.  “Okay.  I’ll get my keys to you in a bit.  Do you need a ride too, or did you drive here?”

“Thanks. No, I came on the bus.”

“If you’re up for a short drive, you could take my car.” Brad only lived ten minutes from the hospital. “What else do you need?”

“A note for some time off work, effective immediately, would be good.”

Initially, Brad was shocked. It was then he realized - the true gravity of the situation, and as concerned as he was, he was also relieved.  “About damned time.  The way you’ve been pushing yourself, you were heading for a heart attack.  How much time do you need?”

“I dunno.  A couple of weeks, a lifetime.  I don’t have a clue at the moment.” Tony leaned into Brad, who comforted him with an arm around his shoulders and a kiss to the head.

“That bad, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Brad knew everything there was to know about NCIS Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, including the details that weren’t on any file.  “Scratch my earlier offer.  I’m off in a couple of hours.  You put ur head down here, and then I’ll take you to my place where you can sleep, talk, whatever.  How does that sound?”

“Pretty good.”

“How long do you think you have before they come searching?”

Surrounded by the safety of Brad’s arms, Tony was already succumbing to slumber, but he managed a coherent answer.  “It’s unlikely tweedle dum and tweedle dee will be in the office before ten.  So, unless the Director wants me, I’ve probably got until just after lunch before anyone asks questions, possibly longer if we don’t catch a case.  If we do, they’ll be storming my apartment.”

“Why would they storm your place?”

“Because, I left anything they can track behind.”

Brad squeezed Tony’s shoulders.  “Damn, you don’t wanna be found do you?”

“Not yet.  But the minute you call in, there will be a reaction.  I doubt anything too grand.  Jenny won’t like it.  She’ll be the biggest problem, but the minions will probably dance for joy.”

Brad didn’t like what he was hearing, but he was familiar with the story.  “Okay. In that case, you’d best not be seen leaving here with me.  I know what NCIS is like for hacking our security system.  Still, rest for a couple, and when it’s time to go, we leave separately, and I’ll pick you up on the corner.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Brad covered Tony with a blanket and left to finish his rounds.

 

 

At Brad’s place, a few hours later, explanations were complete, and the men rested curled up on the couch, with Tony tucked under the arm of the doctor.

For a while after Tony’s battle with the plague, the men were a couple.  Their romance only lasted a few weeks, as it became obvious to Brad where Tony’s heart truly lay.  That was when the last of Tony’s confessions emerged.  The bond between them remained, and though they were not friends with sexual benefits, they found comfort through a kiss and cuddle when needed.

And Tony needed.

He needed strong arms.

He needed comfort.

He needed to feel loved.

That’s precisely what Brad gave him.

Their kisses were not lust ridden; they were soft, caring, and protective, with the right amount of jaw action and a touch of tongue.  When Tony completely relaxed, Brad led his friend to bed, where they cuddled between the sheets until Tony was sound asleep.

Before Brad succumbed to slumber, too, he made one call.  “T.  Tony needs to escape for a while.”

“How bad is it?”

“He’s thinking of leaving NCIS.”

“How long have I got?”

“24 max.”

“Okay.”

 

 

Six hours later, Brad slipped out of bed, leaving Tony to his well earned rest.

Sleepily entering the living room, he almost jumped out of his skin when he found he had a guest lazing on his couch.  “Dammit, Trent, only you know how to give me a heart attack.”

Trent Kort sported a wry smile.  “Nice to know I’ve still got it.”

“Good to see you, my friend.  Glad you’re here.”  Brad leaned over and gave Trent a hug and a slap on the back.

“Well, not long after you called, the Boss decided to return to the US to see his daughter.  He’s going to be here for a few days, so I have use of his jet.”

Brad and Trent went way back.  Brad had patched him up over the years, and continued to do so.  The man had a patchwork of scars all over his body.  Kort played in a variation of war zones, each one as dangerous as the nest.  Whereas Tony used charm in the field similar to Bond, Trent used more traditional spy techniques akin to Richard Burton’s, _Spy Who Came In From The Cold_.

Out on the job, Trent and Tony seemingly hated each other.  Their association indeed started off that way.  What began as extreme dislike grew to professional admiration for the undercover skills of the other.  Brad’s intervention transformed the connection into a firm friendship.  Since then, Tony and Trent enjoyed the security of having someone they trusted outside their own agencies with the skills to get the other out of some deep shit.  Their bond was such that if one had to make a kill shot, he knew it would be precise, or miss in such a way as to leave the other the ability to get to safety.  For this reason, they were like brothers.

Not one to mince words, Kort got straight to the point. “Where’s Tony? And what happened?”

“My room and Cliff note version.  Tony’s fed up of being a doormat and is re-thinking his future.  He needs some time away.”

It had been a while since Trent had seen Tony, so wasn’t quite up to speed on developments.  “I thought he loved NCIS.”

“He did until his main reason for being there departed and left him to be everyone else’s trash can.”

Trent remembered the explosion and Gibbs’ disappearance, but wasn’t aware of the complete fallout, of which Brad brought him up to speed on.  “And Madam Director is so wrapped up with interfering in my op she can’t see past her own nose.”

“He’s not just re-thinking NCIS, Trent.  He’s re-evaluating his life.  In my professional opinion, he’s not seeing anything clearly, and I’m afraid he’ll get dragged back if he stays in Washington.  Then he’ll do something stupid or one of the other Muppets will get him killed.  Despite what he thinks, him doing a Gibbs isn’t gonna go down well.  Tony’s asked to stay with me for a few days, and you know I’d be happy to have him.  But, the minute I call in, it won’t take them long to come knocking on my door.”

“What about Fornell?” Trent and Tobias were not buddies – far from it – but he respected the way he’d taken over guard dog duties regarding Tony.

“Not involved yet. Tony came straight to me, so I suggest keeping it that way.  You know he won’t be happy if he finds out you’ve got him.  Besides, Tony doesn’t believe there’ll be a witch hunt.”

“He’s kidding?”

“Nope, I think the opposite, and Toby will get strip searched if they think he knows where Tony is.”

“Okay.  You go raise sleeping beauty with the kiss of a handsome prince, and I’ll get his passports.  I’ll be back in under an hour.”

“I’m not the prince he wants, Trent.”

Kort raised his eyebrows.  “Since when has that stopped you kissing him at every opportunity?”

Brad smiled.  “True, true.  Who can blame me?  The man’s an excellent kisser.”

When Trent walked out of the door sporting a rare smug smile, Brad made his way to the bedroom.  “Tony, sweetheart.  Rise and shine.”  Tony grunted a meaningless response.  He placed a kiss on Tony’s temple. “Come on, sweetie.  You, my friend, are going on vacation.”  Tony opened an eye, and for the first time in what, to him, was an age, he smiled.

 

 

As per his word, Trent Kort returned to Brad’s in under an hour with several identities in hand.  While Madam Director’s eyes were on Kort’s _Boss_ , Rene Benoit, Tony boarded the jet dressed as Arab businessman Tariq Ahmed.  En route to the aircraft, he wore sunglasses, only removing them as he entered.

Tony would have been happy to silently make his way to a random house in Alaska to while away the days.  But considering he was being transported on an arms dealer’s aircraft by an undercover CIA agent, Tony didn’t complain about the cloak and dagger.  Not only that, but he wasn’t about to pass up a Greek holiday, so went with the flow, happy to be going somewhere with sun, sea, sand, and no moaning from NCIS employees.

The jet flew to Athens. From there, Tony disappeared with Trent into the crowd beyond prying cameras.  For a few days, they toured the city together before parting.  Trent put Tony on a boat to his private villa on the small northern island of Paxos, where Tony was free to stay until ready to return to the US, by whatever means he saw fit.

 

 

Back in Washington, by the time Brad sent through notification of Anthony DiNozzo’s sick leave due to extreme exhaustion - effective immediately - Tony was out of the country.  Everyone on the floor heard a roar. “A MONTH? CYNTHIA. GET ME BETHESDA!”

When Brad came out of surgery, there were ten messages from Director Jenny Shepard.  He took a deep breath and dialed NCIS.  “Director Shepard. You called.”

The irate director snapped, “Brad, what the hell’s going on? Why have you signed DiNozzo off for a month?”

“As his doctor, that’s what I deemed necessary for his recovery.”

“Ducky’s DiNozzo’s doctor,” she hissed.

Brad remained calm.  “He became my patient after he walked into Bethesda last night and collapsed.”

“Collapsed?” At least she had the decency to sound shocked. 

“Yes, collapsed, Director.  After a thorough examination and some rest, he was released with strict instructions not to go anywhere near NCIS for at least a month.”

“I can’t have my MCRT without a leader for a month.”

“That is your problem, Director.  My concern is for my patient.  I’ll forward my diagnosis to Doctor Mallard in due course.  I’m expected in surgery.  Goodbye, Director.”  Brad hung up.  “And the games begin,” he whispered to himself.

Initially, McGee and Ziva were assigned cold cases.  That didn’t faze them in the slightest.  They looked forward to the no-DiNozzo zone.  Tony’s medical leave did, however, get a response from Ducky, Jimmy, and Abby.  For the medical examiner and his assistant, it was a kick up the rear, where both realized their shortcomings in their concern for the former SFA.  Abby suddenly believed she had a sick puppy to look after, but was warned off action by Ducky, who advised her to give him his privacy for a few days.

Ducky was emotionally thrown that Anthony had gone direct to Bethesda instead of seeking him out.  The ME was aware of Anthony’s adversity for such places.  The action suggested something more serious afoot.  From that moment, the ME kept a close eye on office dynamics and was shocked by what he saw.

As for Abby, her inability to respect the space of others took over.  She bounded up the stairs to Tony’s apartment, letting herself in without even knocking, only to find it empty.  She returned to NCIS angry at Tony for not being where she expected him to be.  Then she believed him to have abandoned her and NCIS.  Ducky looked at Jimmy with even deeper concern. The development created more than a stir in the office as to Tony’s whereabouts.

Only a week had passed.  The cold cases were not progressing, and new investigations were coming in.  Consequently, and despite their protests, Ziva and Tim were assigned to another team leader.  As they were originally part of the MCRT, they were allowed to be sent out as a unit, much like Gibbs and Tony in the early years, but it soon became clear they didn’t have anywhere near the investigative skills of their former superiors.

Frustration reigned.

After two weeks, the Director wanted DiNozzo found.

At that time, Ducky made an educated guess as to the whereabouts of one Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Using some ancient investigative skills of his own, he placed a call.  A surprised Gibbs was eventually heard on the other end of the line. “How’d you find me, Duck?”

“Salutations, Jethro. May I defer a definitive response to that for now? The fact that I have is most important.”

“Why, what’s up?”

“Not to put too fine a point on it - all hell is breaking loose here, Jethro.”

“Not my problem.”

“Well, Jethro, if you have no interest in the future of young Anthony, you may be right.  In which case, I apologize for disturbing you.”

Before Ducky could hang up, Gibbs spoke with urgency. “What’s happened to Tony?”

“Two weeks ago, he took himself to Bethesda where he collapsed due to extreme exhaustion.”

Ducky didn’t get any further with his explanation as Gibbs hung up after a terse, “Dammit.”

Less than twenty four hours later, Gibbs stormed into the bullpen, coffee in each hand, and ran up the stairs.  Silence reigned as gawping mouths watched him traverse the steps two at a time.  Without knocking, he strode into the Director’s office.  “What’s happening with Tony?”

Jenny sat back in her chair and removed her glasses to give herself composure time.  “Good to see you too, Jethro.”

“Cut the crap, Jen.  What’s happened to my team?”

“As far as I remember, Jethro, you left with hardly any memory of them.  You don’t have a team.”

Gibbs slammed his hand down on her desk.  “Jen, stop with the games.  My memory is fine now.  I left you with the best man I’ve ever worked with, and the next thing I know, all hell’s broken loose.”  Gibbs didn’t wait for answers. He left as quickly as he arrived.

Down in autopsy, the doors hardly had time to swish open before Gibbs was through them.  “Talk to me, Ducky.”  Palmer looked at his mentor, and with a nod, made himself scarce.

“And a good afternoon to you, Jethro.  Word had reached me of your reappearance.  May I hazard a guess that your,” Ducky looked at his watch, “extremely brief meeting with the Director was not as forthcoming as you wished?”

“Ya got that right, Duck.”

“Well, she has been rather preoccupied of late, as we all have, I’m sad to say.”

“Whatdaya mean, Duck?”

“Well, Jethro.  I’m deeply regretful to say that your sudden departure, though on reflection, understandable, affected us all rather negatively.”  Gibbs stayed silent, allowing the ME to elaborate.  “For the most part, I fear we have all been in our own respective worlds of despair, during which time young Anthony held everything together.”

Gibbs expected nothing less of his SFA; it was why he left him in charge. 

Ducky went on to explain how he saw the situation once his eyes had been opened, by which time the damage was done and Tony had disappeared.  “Knowing young Anthony…I fear he has taken off to recover from more than health issues.”

Gibbs was not happy, and left autopsy murmuring, “At least your eyes ‘r open, Ducky.”  The angry man entered the bullpen. “McGee!”

A head popped up from behind the divider. “B… Boss?”

“McGee, do your doohickey thing and get me footage from the hospital the night DiNozzo was signed off.”

McGee shuffled to his desk and started working.  Mid keystroke, he looked up and saw the Director on the mezzanine and stopped all action. She nodded her ascent for him to continue.  She was no fool and knew her best chance at finding DiNozzo was via Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

Ziva was soon standing at attention at Gibbs’ side. “What would you like me to do?”

Gibbs looked at her disbelievingly, wondering where her sudden change of attitude came from, after according to Ducky, it had gone missing along with her respect for chain of command.  “For starters, you can stay out of my way.”  The shocked woman took two strides back.

Abby clomped into the bullpen. “Gibbs Gibbs Gibbs. You’re back.” She threw her arms around his neck. “Knew you’d come back.”

“Abs, not now.”  Abby looked at Gibbs with her mouth agape and eyes wide.

The large screen came to life and McGee interrupted. “Got it, Boss.”

Everyone looked on as they tracked Tony’s heavy footed progress through the main doors of Bethesda and exit to Dr. Pitts’s floor.  Abby let out a gasp when she saw Tony collapse into Brad’s arms.  Gibbs was stunned and his heart wrenched.  Later, when he saw the way his Tony leaned into Brad, he breathed harder and ground his teeth together.  The next time Tony was caught on camera, it was of him exiting through the front doors and heading out onto the sidewalk.

“That’s all we got, Boss.”  McGee spoke to thin air as the only sign of Gibbs was his outline as the elevator doors closed.

Driving his car to its limits, Gibbs made it to Bethesda in record time.  The front desk informed him Dr. Pitt’s shift was due to start in half an hour.  For once in his life, Gibbs had to be patient.  During that time Jethro sat in the waiting room.  His knee bounced as he reflected on what he’d learned, and his earlier reactions to seeing Tony in the arms of another man.  So consumed by his feelings, Gibbs didn’t hear the door open.

“Agent Gibbs, I understand you wish to talk to me.”

The men shook hands, and Gibbs was a little sidelined by the formal greeting of Dr Pitt.  As he understood it, they were friendlier before the explosion.  “Brad, good to see you.”

“Likewise.  How can I help?”

“You saw Tony. What can you tell me?”

“Other than when he came in, he collapsed, and I’ve signed him off for a month, not much.  You’ve scoured the footage.”  Gibbs nodded.  “Then you’ve seen all I can tell you.  Doctor/patient confidentiality prevents me saying anything else.  No doubt, you’ve already spoken to Dr. Mallard.”

“Yes, I’ve read the report.  It didn’t exactly go into detail.  As his next of kin, I was hoping you could tell me more.”

“No, you’re not.  According to our records, Tobias Fornell is.”

Gibbs’ eyes went wide. “Tobias?”

“Yes, and I shouldn’t have told you that either.  It’s only because I’m aware you two are friends that I did.  What he reveals is up to him.”  Gibbs moved towards the door.  “Agent Gibbs.”

“Yeah?”

“Why do you want him back so bad?”

Gibbs wasn’t about to reveal anything on a personal level, so went with, “He’s my SFA.”

There was immediate stiffening in Brad’s shoulders.  “Then I hope you don’t find him.”

Gibbs slowly walked back into the room.  “How did you know he was missing?”

Brad wasn’t fazed by Gibbs’s panther qualities.  “If he wasn’t, you wouldn’t be here.  You’d be dogging Tony.”

“Tony, huh?  You seem awfully familiar with my Agent.”  Gibbs wasn’t basing his statement on Brad using Tony’s name either.

Brad leaned in.  “He’s not just an agent.  There’s a man with a beating heart under that bravado.  You spend several weeks nursing a patient back from the dead, you’d get familiar, too.  Tony’s too good a man to be brought down by the self-absorbed assholes at NCIS.”

Gibbs was surprised at the acidity in Brad’s usually measured stance.  “What do you know, Brad?”

“More than you do.  But it’s not for me to tell.”

Gibbs grabbed Brad’s wrist.  “Tell me.”

Brad slowly looked down to the hold Gibbs had on him.  “People who grab doctors in here usually end up out on their ass by security, or with a sedative in their arm and papers admitting them to the psych ward.  Which would you prefer?”

Gibbs released Brad, and breezed out of the room with his phone to his ear and an “I’ll be back.”

 _I’m sure you will, but not yet._ Brad reached for his phone and sent a text.   _He’s on his way_.

 

 

Tobias Fornell sat at his desk waiting patiently for Hurricane Gibbs to blast through his door.  He’d already received a terse call from the man inquiring as to his whereabouts, followed twenty minutes later by one from security.

The FBI Agent wasn’t happy about Tony being hidden away.  He’d have preferred it if Tony had gone to him first, but he went to Brad, and Fornell had to trust Tony was safe.  At the end of the day, Brad had Tony’s best interests at heart and treated him like the intelligent human being he was instead of the jester-cum-St. Bernard like many others.  Tobias also knew why Brad kept him out of the loop as to Tony’s whereabouts – plausible deniability.  That didn’t mean Fornell stayed inactive though.  He lounged back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head counting the seconds. He didn’t have to wait long.  “Ahh, Jethro. So what brings Bear Gibbs battering down my door?”

“Like you don’t know. Where’s Tony?”

“What makes you think I know?  I’m not his handler.  Last I heard he was a grown man free to make his own decisions.”

Gibbs closed his eyes and slumped into a chair.  “Not you too, Tobias.  I just want answers, and apparently you are now his next of kin, not me.”

“Well, yes, that’s true, but that doesn’t make me the all-seeing eye.  I’m his next of kin because you decided to abandon your family and take off to parts unknown.”

Some of the fight returned to Gibbs.  “You know why I did that?”

Tobias knew the reminder was an unfair one, but nonetheless valid.  Since Director Shepard had been on the war path, he’d kept a close eye on happenings at the Navy Yard and was glad he’d beaten her hit squad to Tony’s apartment.  He wasn’t happy over their treatment of a man who he’d come to think of as a true friend verging on son.  Thankfully, she wasn’t aware of his connection to Tony.  “True, I do. And I don’t blame you for doing it.  But like you, Tony needs time to get his head around a few thing and I don’t keep a leash on him, Jethro.”

“So you know where he is?” Gibbs sounded hopeful.

“Nope.  Like I said… grown man.  But if I had my way, he’d be taking a lot more than a month off, and I wouldn’t recommend him return here.”

“Why?”

“Because I know _why_ he went.  And you see this stack here?”  Toby grabbed a pile of letters inches deep and deposited them before Gibbs.  “This is his mail.  The rumors of what’s been happening at HQ have reached other agencies.  Judging by the logo’s, I suspect most of this is them making very lucrative offers.”

Gibbs put his head in his hands and softly assured himself, “He won’t leave.”

Fornell shattered that illusion.  “Wanna bet?”

“Tobias.  It already stings that I found out about him collapsing third hand, but this, too.”

“How could anyone tell you when no one knew where you were?  Even if they did, why should they contact you?  Tony certainly didn’t have any incentive to.  Since you got blown up, all you’ve done is prove he’s no more than a co-worker.  And he’s not even considered that to some at NCIS.  After you left, there was _no one_ for him to turn to in that place.”  Fornell rose from his seat and leaned over his desk on his knuckles.  “He stuck it out longer than anyone else I know would have – including you.  It’s no surprise he wants to throw in the towel.”

Gibbs sighed. “Then I’m glad he had you to turn to.” The sincerity in Gibbs’ voice was a welcome change from the gruff usual.

“Yeah, well, I’m not the only one who’s had his back, even if I don’t get what the connection is.”

At that comment, Gibbs became wary.  “What are you trying to tell me, Tobias?”

“I’ll tell you, depending on how you answer one question.”

“You, too?”

“Yes, and I don’t want a bullshit answer either.  My Bullometer’s had a recent overhall.”  With a tired moan, Gibbs acquiesced.  “Why do you want him back?”

At that moment, Gibbs made the connection between Brad and Tobias. “I’ve heard that question before.”

“Can’t imagine why? You gonna answer or not?”

A few minutes passed before Gibbs looked Tobias in the eye.  “Because I fucked up, that’s why.  And I wanna right a wrong I should’ve righted a long time ago, if he’ll let me.”

“What wrong would that be, Jethro?”

“Not gonna talk about that here.”

“Let’s take a walk.  I think we’re both gonna need coffee for this.”

Gibbs and Tobias took a stroll in the park where FBI availed NCIS of everything Tony had been through since his boss walked out.  Whereas once Tony had gone to Gibbs’s for cowboy steaks, that timeout had been replaced by lasagne at Fornell’s.  Three large coffees and a sizeable exchange of information later, Tobias handed his phone over to Gibbs.  On screen was a picture.  “We’ve got a joint operation running with the CIA tracking the activities of Rene Benoit.”

“I remember him.  He’s suspected of arms dealing.  Jen believes he had something to do with the death of her father.”

“That’s correct, and she’s pissing off a lot of people by sticking her nose into our op for her vengeance run.  She doesn’t wanna know the truth.  But that’s beside the point.”

“Then what is?”

“I don’t know where Tony is, but I was going through our surveillance footage when I came across this.”  Fornell flicked the screen and another shot appeared of two men walking toward the Benoit jet.  “The log says they were the only two passengers aboard.  Here’s another shot from a different angle.”  Fornell made sure he had the right picture on screen and zoomed in on the faces, before showing Gibbs.  “I’m sure you recognize your buddy Trent. His passenger is supposed to be Tariq Ahmed, an Arab businessman, but how many Arab men do you know with green eyes like that?”

Tobias honed in even further on Tariq’s face.  Gibbs knew those expressive eyes. “Tony.” It then registered exactly who he was with and had to ask.  “Is he sick or undercover?”

“No, no, no, don’t go there, Gibbs.  He’s sick alright.  Him collapsing was no smoke screen.  Tony wouldn’t get involved in my op.  Trust me, Jenny has tried her damnedest and he saw her coming a mile off.  It’s one of the reasons she’s so pissed off.  She has to actually focus on her agents instead of her side project.  Tony was the one bracing a leaking damn with no mortar for the cracks.  No, as much as I don’t like the man, Kort is the one sheltering Tony from the clutches of your Director.  And more to the point, Tony trusts him.”

“What?  Tony trusts him?”  Gibbs said pointing a finger at the picture.  “I know I got blown up, Tobias, but I don’t believe in alternate universes.”

“Believe it, Jethro.  Everyone at the Navy Yard thinks we’re arch enemies, so why not them?  Hell, even I trust Kort more than anyone at your place at the moment.”

Gibbs took a few minutes to digest the development.  “Where was the plane bound for?”

“Greece.  And before you ask, short of doing a house to house search, I couldn’t find anything connected to Kort.”

Jethro thought over his options.  “Can you set up a meet?”

“Are you sure you want to? Tony could be home in less than a week.”

“Emphasis on the _could_ there, Tobias.  I want to make sure he comes home.”

“What then, Jethro?  Tony’s not your lapdog anymore.”

“He never was, Tobias.”

 

 

Sharpening tools in his basement, Gibbs heard footsteps.  They sauntered to the door before slowly making their way down the steps.  The pace was akin to the way the man often spoke – with the sound of boredom.

“Gibbs”

“Kort.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”  Kort’s accent sounded somewhere between British and South African.

“I want Tony back.”

“Goodbye, Gibbs.”  Trent reversed course.

“Wait!”

“What?”

Gibbs looked up from his work, his glasses half way down his nose.  “I know you have him.  I need to know if he’s coming back – please.”

Trent showed a flicker of emotion at the _please_ offered by Gibbs.  “Why do you care what he does?”

“I’ve been asked that a lot lately.  I’ll tell Tony, but not you.”

Kort smirked.  “You don’t like me, do you?”

“Whether I like you or not, doesn’t matter.  For some reason, Tony trusts you.  Either that or he’s desperate.”

Trent huffed in amusement.  “Maybe there’s a touch of truth in what you say, but you wouldn’t understand even if I wrote a book on it.  Which I’m not, by the way.”

“Don’t need to understand.  Tony’s word is good enough.”

“Well, that’s trusting.”

“I’ve always trusted Tony.”

“Oh yes, I forgot the immortal words, ’You’ll do’.  Yes, that incites trust, faith, and anything else you want to add in?  I think you need to renew your dictionary, Gibbs, or is it thesaurus.”

Gibbs’s jaw twitched. “Are you going to tell me or not?  Is Tony coming back?”

“Briefly.  He has a checkup soon.”

“When?”

“Two days.”

“Then what?”

“That’s up to DiNozzo.”

“Thanks.”

Trent turned to leave with a huff, then hesitated.  “A word of warning.  I don’t know what he’s going to do, but if I ever have to hide him from NCIS again, I’ll do everything to convince him never to return.”

“Understood.”

With that, Trent Kort left with the same lazy stride he arrived with.

 

 

Two days later, Gibbs hoped his gut was right with what he was doing.  He sat in darkened silence in Tony’s apartment.  Hours after the appointment time of his checkup, he heard keys in the door and light from the hallway bathed the room. Gibbs internally sighed with relief.

Without looking into the room, Tony threw his keys onto the side. “Thought I’d run into you sometime today.” He then switched on the light, temporarily blinding Gibbs.

“What gave me away?” Gibbs shielded his eyes as they refocused.

“Old Spice.”

Avoiding eye contact with Gibbs, Tony moved to the kitchen and put his bag of groceries in the fridge.  “Well, you know I’m alive now, and Ducky will have a report by morning, so you can leave.”  His tone was matter of fact and emotionless.

Gibbs stood and kept calm.  “Not going anywhere.”

Tony had his head buried in the paper bag.  “Last time I looked at the agreement, I was the only one on the lease, unless you know something I don’t?”

“I’m sorry, Tony.”

Tony rested his palms on the work surface and laughed.  “Oh, now I know I must be dreaming, because the all knowing Gibbs doesn’t apologize.”

“I’m sorry, Tony.”

“There it is again.  Brad never mentioned this at my checkup.  Hallucinations were _not_ part of the diagnosis.”

“Not hallucinating.”

Swiftly spinning around, he shouted, “Then what is it?  What are you saying sorry for, because the last time I saw you, you weren’t remembering a whole lot!”

Tony’s serious eyes bore into Gibbs; the emerald color even brighter against the Greek tan.  He looked mighty fine.

“I remember everything, Tony.” Gibbs kept his voice soft.  “I remember Shannon and Kelly, Baltimore, the Plague, almost losing you, Cait, nearly drowning and you coming in after me.”  He moved a step closer.  “I remember what a brilliant investigator you are, and I am sorry I failed you as a boss, partner, and as a man.”

Gibbs took another step, except Tony sidestepped his advance.  Gibbs caught hold of his wrist.  Tony rounded on him and caught his jaw with a right hook.

Gibbs’ body hit the kitchen wall, but his hold on Tony didn’t wane.  He pulled a struggling Tony into his arms, and positioned his mouth close to Tony’s ear.  “I remember the trust we used to have.”

Through clenched teeth, Tony ground out, “That disappeared with the bomb, Gibbs.” Tony wriggled in Jethro’s grip again.

Gibbs held on tighter.  “Tony… Tony.”  Jethro’s leg swept Tony to the floor.

While DiNozzo was winded beneath him, Gibbs whispered, “I also remembered the tingling sensation when we got close.  How my heart pumped when I sheltered you and the craving I had for more.”

Gibbs could feel Tony’s reaction to his words behind his zipper. 

The fight was going out of Tony.  “Rule twelve.”

“Fuck rule twelve.”  Gibbs’ lips descended on Tony’s possessively.  Seconds later, Tony responded in kind.  They became a jumble of lustful moans, searching hands, and rutting bodies.  Both took short breaths before returning to wanton lips and twining legs.  Each man eagerly searched for purchase, chasing a release years in the making.  When Gibbs’ hand grasped Tony’s cock through his pants, Tony was done for.  He threw his head back and let go a strangled roar.  The twitch and pulse beneath his fingers had Gibbs following suit.

Tony panted.  “I think we’d better take this to the shower.”

Take it to the shower they did; followed by the bedroom dresser, where the bang of the wood took chunks out of the wall.  Eventually, they made it to the bed, their lust transformed into long sensual undulations of hips, while eyes locked and mewls of contentment filled the room. 

Finally sated, the men kissed passionately before falling into a long, peaceful sleep.

 

 

When morning arrived, Tony and Gibbs reaffirmed their union.  During breakfast, Tony addressed the elephant in the room. “I’m not coming back, Jethro.”

Gibbs placed his fork on the plate and took a long gulp of coffee.  “After everything I’ve heard, can’t say I blame ya.”

Tony looked unsure of what to say next.

Gibbs took his hand in his.  “Tony, last night was about us, nothing else.  If you’ve lost faith in NCIS, coming back could kill you.”

“I have.  It’s not just in the bullpen; I have to trust who’s in the big chair.”

“I can respect that.  What are you gonna do?  Tobias had a lot of offers in his hand.”

Tony smiled. “Yeah, including his.  He brought them to the hospital today.  The most enticing looks to be Homeland Security.  Tom Morrow wants me there, and he’s the only director who I know won’t shaft me.  What about you?”

“There’s a mess to sort out, and I’ll stay to help with that.  The place fell apart without you, ya know.”

“Fell apart without you, too.”

“It would’ve survived with you there, but they messed that up.”

“What do you think will happen?”

“I think it’s time Ziva returned Israel, and it wouldn’t hurt Tim to settle his ego with a spell in cybercrimes.  Only time will tell with Jen, but the others know they fucked up and are ready to apologize when you’re ready.”

“But that leaves you without a team.”

“Don’t want a team if you’re not in it.  I’ll help train up the others, then, retire for good.”

Tony looked down. “I’m sorry.”

Gibbs put his hand under Tony’s chin, raised it, and looked directly into his eyes.  “Not your fault.  They wasted good and are suffering the consequences.  I’m partly responsible for that, so I should help fix it.”

“What about us?”

Gibbs leaned in for brief kiss.  “Us.  I’m never letting you go again, Tony. I’m holding on to you with both hands for the rest of my life.”

The men’s lips met again – breakfast was forgotten.

The end.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
